Here There Be Vampires
by Supernaturalverse
Summary: Sometimes you don't want to go home. A young female hunter runs into some vampiric trouble when she returns to her family's ranch. Characters: John Winchester, OFC, mild language
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Once upon a time, John Winchester actually sought out the contact of other hunters, extending a hand to befriend his fellow comrades. One of those hunters was a man named Matthew Ryan. This is the first of a multi chapter tale of which gives a bit of a look into the hunter network. It's a combined work between Midnight Profit and Mellie Anderson, featuring an OFC created by the former. This is our first foray into collaborative writing as a tandem.

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**Terrebonne, Oregon, 1999**

_The sun was high in the afternoon sky when Aaren Ryan pulled off the blacktop and onto the long dirt road that served as a driveway to the ranch she had been raised on. Despite the pounding of her heart and the feeling of dread in her gut she managed not to speed up, braking a little even and slowing down. She took one hand off the steering wheel, flexing her fingers - she'd been gripping it so tight her knuckles ached – and she reached into the passenger seat to pick up her cell phone from where she'd dropped it after the last time she had called. She started to flip it open, stopped, dropped it again._

_She'd wait; the house was just around the next bend in the driveway. She'd know in just a minute if her fears were founded or not._

_And anyway, did she really expect for someone to pick up? After all, she'd been calling for three days. Three days and no one had answered. But no one had called her either. Her phone hadn't rang once in four days to be exact. That was even more troublesome. That was what had caused Aaren to do a shitty job of finishing up her most recent hunt; the thing was dead yeah, but she'd been injured in the process, a deep gash in her left arm that she knew needed stitches though she hadn't seen a doctor yet. There wasn't time for it. Hell, she'd barely slept since leaving Mexico, taking half hour breaks to rest her eyes whenever she started to feel tired and she was pushing it now, having been on the road for nine hours, stopping only for gas when it was needed and then heading right back out._

_The thing was, they had a rule and that rule was you left on a hunt, you called daily to check in. Her dad had always done so and Aaren had done the same for the past two years she'd been out on her own. It was her mother's rule, really, and she and her father never once disobeyed it. There'd always been someone home to answer, too, her mom or one of her sisters, and recently her father, who when Aaren spoke to him last had come down with the flu. So someone should be home. Someone should pick up. The only reason not to was if they had to leave quickly – a scenario that they had practiced for a long time now, just in case the job followed them home. But if that were the reason then Aaren would have received a call. Unless it wasn't safe for them to call her, she told herself. Yeah, that had to be it._

_She came around the slight bend and the driveway opened up onto the white two-story ranch house her grandfather had built. Aaren brought her car to a stop, keeping the engine running and her foot on the break. There were eight cars parked out front, and a ninth was parked half in the corral next to the big red barn, and half out, pieces of broken white fence littered all around it. Aaren only recognized three of the cars: her father's Chevy red pick up, her mother's minivan, and the blue Ford that belonged to the ranch hand._

_Aaren put the car in park and – leaving the engine running – she picked up the .45 from the passenger seat and got out. It was quiet. It was the middle of the day and the ranch should have been alive with noise from the animals and the machinery and her sisters and she should have heard her mother's voice, probably hollering at four-year-old Claire to stop doing one thing or the other._

_Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Aaren started forward towards the house, the .45 gripped in her right hand and held at the ready. Something by the corral caught her attention as she passed and she sidestepped that way, her eyes darting back and forth from the house to the shadows within the open barn. As she neared the broken fence the smell hit her before the sound of the flies did. The body was lying on its stomach in the dirt, one arm outstretched as if her father had been reaching for something. What was left of his face was turned towards her; animals must have gotten to him. But that wasn't what had killed him. No, the wound in his throat looked like the culprit, and Aaren noted right away the lack of blood on his corpse and on the ground._

_She walked slowly back to her car, fighting the urge she had to run. Whoever was in her house was probably asleep but would wake up given a loud enough noise. So it was with care that she shut her door and threw the car into reverse, backing down the driveway a ways before bothering to turn around. And only when she hit the blacktop of the road and turned onto it did she pick up her cell phone and dial a number._

o0o

_Sitting with his hand clutched around a chipped mug of lukewarm coffee, John had been quietly perusing the local rag in a truck stop diner in Madras, Oregon when he felt his cell phone vibrating in the front pocket of his faded blue button up shirt. With a low sigh, his eyes never leaving the article he was reading, John leaned to the side slightly as he maneuvered to get the phone out with the least amount of movement. He was tired, had been on the road for probably 24 hours straight driving as he headed back from hunting one pissed off spirit. A dull, throbbing ache shot up his back as John finally managed to wriggle the phone free. Maybe he should have taken Dean with him, he thought, prob'ly woulda saved him some aches and pains. But then, John supposed, leaving Dean with Sam had likely saved Pastor Jim a bigger pain in the form of a petulant Sam. Least with his brother around, Sammy would be less likely to cause the good Pastor grievance. And John figured his own pain was worth that._

_John paused as he caught sight of the name on the caller ID, his brow furrowing. Aaren Ryan...Matthew's girl. A young hunter who took after her old man in more ways than one. The Ryan family were old friends of John's and had been good to him on more than one occasions, by providing shelter, a place to stop and stitch himself up, or a good home cooked meal when he was far from the other places that he could almost consider 'home' --- if there was any place of the sort. _

_The old ranch where the large family was settled wasn't too far away from where John currently found himself. Though it hadn't been on his current stopping list, if he had thought about, he might have dropped in on the way by. After all, it had been awhile since he'd seen them._

_Which made Aaren's name on his phone even more peculiar. She was a good girl, a good hunter...Maybe she had run into some trouble on a hunt and needed a hand? With a grunt, John dismissed that thought. She'd call her ol' man first... Had something happened to Matthew on a hunt? _

_With a sickening feeling beginning to slide deep into his gut, John answered the phone --- a rarity for him. "Hello?" He asked, his voice even even as his fingers wrapped tightly around the cell's casing._

_"John?" a female voice said when the other end was picked up. "It's Aaren Ryan. I uh, I need some help." _

_John leaned forward in his seat, his free hand finding the edge of the cracked counter and digging into it, the metal edge cracking under the pressure. There was something in Aaren's tone, something in her voice that sounded so small, and he knew immediately something bad had gone down. "What is it? What happened?"_

_Out of habit Aaren glanced up at the rear view mirror. The road behind her was empty. She hadn't really expected anyone to be following anyway. After all, it was daylight and if the things back at her house were what she thought they were, they'd stay in until sunset._

_"My father's dead," she blurted out, the reality of it hitting her like a punch to the stomach, her breath rushing from her lungs. Aaren pulled the car sharply to the right, veering off the road in a cloud of dust and coming to an abrupt halt. She threw the car into park and pushed the door open, getting out and slamming it shut, her emotions quickly shifting gear from shock to anger as she began to pace the side of the road. She had to get a hold of herself, had to look at this like any other job; it was what her father would expect of her.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_"I just found his body, John. They left him lying outside for the animals to get at. His face was…" she trailed off, leaning against the hood of the car and bowing her head, massaging her temples with her free hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, the image of her father's corpse flashing in her mind and she realized she was getting ahead of herself._

_Clearing her throat she opened her eyes, looking around at the desert that surrounded the road. "I'm at home, John. Well, not at home. I'm about five miles down the road. I, uh, I was on a job and nobody was answering the phone. So I came home and something was wrong. All the windows were covered and there were all these cars out front and it was quiet, it was too quiet and I found my dad by the corral. His throat had been ripped out but there wasn't any blood. It was messy and there was more than one wound but there wasn't a single drop of spilled blood."_

_While Aaren's words began to sink in, John felt his stomach do a roll, the stale coffee inside it sloshing around aimlessly. Matthew had been at home? And something had still gotten to him? Home was supposed to be your sanctuary, the place where you could let your guard down just a little. Yet, once again, that was fable which was proven to be false. And that was exactly why John had kept on the move. _

_But Matthew had been a damn good hunter, had to be with all his little girls running around the property. That had to mean whatever it was, it had either blindsided him or had been watching and waiting for the right moment to make it's move. That was a scary thought. You really weren't safe at any time. 'Course, it wasn't as if John hadn't already known that. It just more or less cemented it in his ever growing paranoia. _

_It suddenly dawned on John that Matthew's family would have been home at the time, and yet Aaren had made no mention of them. Did that mean....? Had something gotten to them as well? _

_Aaren paused, not wanting to say it out loud, not yet, because she knew in her heart that her suspicions were right and it didn't bode well for the rest of her family. "John, can you come? I mean, I understand if you're in the middle of something and you can't. I just…I don't know who else to call." _

_There was something in her voice, something so familiar, that John's heart almost broke as he listened to her. "Yeah, 'course," Pushing his coffee cup away, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a few loose bills. He tossed them on the counter and stood, grimacing again as pain shot tingled up his back. "Look, I'm about..." John began, pausing to take a look at his watch, "I'm about twenty minutes away...I can make it in ten..." Moving quickly out of the diner, he headed for his truck. "You say you're five minutes down the road from the ranch? Alright, you stay in the car...Lock the doors and if you see anything...ANYTHING..." John reiterated the last word with emphasis as he slide behind the wheel of his GMC, "You take off and give me a call to where you're going..." Starting the truck, John immediately pulled out, the large wheels cutting through the gravel and tossing it upwards. "I mean it Aaren. You don't go back there. I'm on my way..." _

_Snapping the cell phone shut, John tossed it on the passenger seat beside him, his mind working over the little bit of information Aaren had imparted. Throat ripped out, no blood present...Could be a couple things, John supposed. He would refrain from guessing and worrying himself until he could inspect Matthew's wounds first hand. Jesus, John thought as he closed his eyes, that was the last thing he wanted to do. _


	3. Chapter 3

Pushing his foot further down on the accelerator, John sped towards the ranch, keeping his eyes peeled for Aaren in case she had to make a quick escape. It wasn't long before he spotted her car. He pulled up behind it, leaving the truck to idle as he jumped out. Stalking up to the vehicle, full hunter mode kicking in, John's tone was even as he spoke, "Alright, I need you to tell me everything you even think you mighta saw...No matter how insignificant. We can't walk in there blind..."

Aaren had done as John said to; she'd got back in the car and she locked the doors and then she waited. It was by and far the longest ten minutes of her life, and when she saw the familiar black GMC pull up behind her, Aaren was out of the car before John had even come to a full stop. She couldn't remember ever being as grateful to see someone as she was to see John Winchester walking towards her in that moment. The closer he got, the tighter her chest felt and her eyes began to burn with tears.

"Right. Okay." Aaren nodded her, taking a shaky breath and blinking back the tears. Her chin trembled a little as she exhaled, and she took another deep breath, getting herself under control. They couldn't go in their blind, as John said, and they couldn't go in there with their emotions running high either and Aaren felt like she was teetering on the edge of a dark abyss.

"Okay," she said again, that tightening in her chest loosening a little bit at a time. "I pulled up and there were five cars there I didn't recognize. Four trucks and an old corvette. One of the trucks had crashed through the corral, and that's where I found my dad. Lying half on the ground with his throat torn out." She paused, swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat. "There was more than one wound in his neck and, uh, his wrist, too. Like maybe what got him…maybe there was more than one. I think he'd been dead maybe three days. That adds up 'cause that's when I lost contact with them."

Them…for the first time Aaren allowed herself to think of her mother and her sisters. She sank back against her car, pushing her hair out of her face with both hands and looking down at the ground. "I didn't see anyone else. Didn't hear anyone, or anything, either. It was so quiet." She dropped her arms back to her side, tilting her face up to look at John. "Do you think they're okay? My mom and the girls? Do you…" she trailed off and started again. "They're dead, aren't they? If my dad were alive then maybe they would be too, but it obviously took him out first so...and I wasn't there to…" To what? To die, too? She reached up, wiping at her eyes with her fingers. "All the windows were covered, John. As far back as I can remember, my mother would wake up every morning and first thing she'd do was open all the curtains and let the light in. I think it's still there. It or they or whatever."

_'...that's where I found my dad. Lying half on the ground with his throat torn out.' _As soon as those words tumbled out of Aaren's mouth, John immediately slapped a hand over his eyes, rubbing furiously as he mentally processed the information. Dead for three days with his throat ripped out as well as other wounds? Jesus, John thought to himself, that sounded like one thing...Vampires. Though, he hadn't really hunted one himself, his mentor, Daniel Elkins had been a master of them. Well, supposedly. Elkins certainly tooted his own horn on a regular basis about his vampire hunting exploits. But, hadn't Elkins stated that he and a few buddies wiped them out?

John supposed he could count that as just another lie which Elkins had told him...After all, he was still certain that the older hunter had a special supernatural gun in his possession --- no matter what the man said.

Dropping his hand from his face, he let it swing gently by his side for a moment as his eyes met Aaren's teary ones. Clenching his jaw tightly as he listened to her continuing ramble, John felt a small, yet forceful tug at his heart. Did she really want him to say what he thought? Did she really want him to come out and tell her that, no, he seriously doubted the rest of her family was still alive? No, John didn't think she did anymore than he wanted to say the words aloud himself. She knew the likely score as much as he did. But, regardless of what you knew deep in your gut, there was the slightest bit of comfort in the moments before the truth of a situation was revealed. John supposed it was the chance of hope. hope that your darkest fears would turn out to be nothing more than fleeting nightmares.

And he wouldn't take that hope away from anybody.

After all, wasn't that why he'd run back in the nursery that November night? He had hoped he could have saved his wife...

Still, as he looked down into the young girl's eyes, he couldn't help but be reminded of his own children. What would happen to them if --- or when, in all likelihood, --- they found themselves in this situation one day? A sudden burst of raw emotion overcame the usually standoffish hunter and, in mid swing, he reached his arms out and enveloped the much smaller girl in a tight, albeit awkward, hug. "Yeah, if it's what I think it is, it likely hasn't gone far..." John sighed, his grip vise like, "Don't think like that...Don't think it's your fault..."


	4. Chapter 4

Aaren's breath caught in her throat when John pulled her to him like he did – she wasn't used to being hugged. The last person (and the only person to ever do it) to do so had been Claire, two weeks ago when she'd thrown her little arms around Aaren's legs as she'd been about to leave on a hunt; Claire hadn't wanted her to go, had cried in fact and begged her to stay. Of all her sisters, Aaren was closest to the youngest, and she'd hated seeing her tears. She'd promised her she'd be back before she knew it and that she'd bring her a present, but she'd been gone longer than she had thought she'd be and the teddy bear she'd bought was still sitting in a plastic bag in her trunk.

When she found her breath again Aaren choked on a sob, burying her face against John's chest and squeezing her eyes shut. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't, not until it was over, until they'd dealt with what was in her house and she'd found her family. Found their bodies, her mind screamed at her and thank god John's grip tightened just then as he advised her not to think like it was her fault, his arms squeezing and causing the cut in her left arm to reawaken with a sharp pain. It was a welcome pain, and Aaren embraced it, preferring it to the ache that had been settling into her heart.

Drawing away from John, she flexed her injured arm, wincing at how tight it felt, turning it to get a better look at it. She'd wrapped it in gauze but hadn't changed the hasty bandage since she'd put it on two days ago; it was stiff with blood, and she knew if she took it off the wound would be swollen and red with infection.

"Chupacabra in Mexico," she explained absently though he hadn't asked; she knew he would eventually. "That's where I was. My dad had the flu so…so I went. Probably that's how they were able to take him down. Wasn't at the top of his game." She raised her eyes to John's; they were still damp, but with every passing second the tears were drying. "There's a motel, other side of town. We can go there. I need to clean this, stitch it up and…and you can tell me what we're facing. And how I can kill it."


End file.
